


Thanksgiving Turkey*

by ShadowHaloedAngel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Jokes, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, Gen, M/M, Sam Can Talk to Birds, Team as Family, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 08:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8659414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel/pseuds/ShadowHaloedAngel
Summary: *NB: The interpretation of the word turkey in this instance is not entirely literal in terms of an oversized bird. The rest will undoubtedly become clear as we continue. Literally just a little bit of dysfunctional team as family crackfic for the holidays.





	

The table was actually groaning slightly under the weight of all the dishes that had been piled up on it and Bruce was starting to have slight doubts about its structural integrity. Of course, he knew very well that Tony was the greatest engineering mind of their generation (or possibly several generations, or the century, it depended on what kind of mood he was in at the time and what had triggered the particular soliloquy), but Tony hadn't built the table, and when he had purchased the table (if he had chosen it personally which seemed unlikely) he probably hadn't been considering trials like this. Most of the furniture in the communal areas had been severely tested outside of the specifications laid out by the manufacturers. Some had survived. 

Tony was still complaining about how his insurance company claimed Thor's actions were acts of God and wouldn't take his point that there was in fact a linguistic nuance differentiating 'act of god' and 'act of A god'. To his mind, the particulate a was very important. So far they weren't seeing it that way and that did mean that Tony was either going to have to resign himself to regularly replacing furniture or branch out into the interior design business. 

At the moment Bruce wasn't sure which was more likely. 

Clint advanced on the table carrying a huge brown turkey, grinning like a maniac in purple oven mitts, and setting it in pride of place in the centre. 

There was an ominous creak but for the moment the table held and Bruce was counting on the fact that this meant dinner could begin and therefore the amount of food was about to rapidly lessen. Hopefully in time to save the table, but he wasn't yet sure about that. 

"Hey doesn't it seem ironic to you that you cooked the bird?" Tony asked, glancing up from his tablet, and Bruce rolled his eyes. 

Clint just grinned. 

"Hey at least I /can/ cook. You're only allowed to push buttons in the kitchen and that's only if you haven't played with any of the settings first."

"I- I resent that. That is a huge undervaluing of my culinary skills."

"Come back when you remember to include all four of the ingredients in a cake Stark, then we'll talk. I mean honestly four ingredients is a little advanced for you given what you're capable of doing to an omlette, and that's basically just eggs."

"Screw you Barton."

Sam advanced on the table, a look of horror on his face as he stared at the turkey. 

Tony looked between him and the bird and Clint a few times, then shook his head and went back to whatever he was doing, deciding not to get involved. 

Bruce hid a smile. He was good at body language, and sure Sam was good at fucking with people, but he'd forgotten who he was dealing with here. 

Clint also didn't look convinced. 

"Frederick?! Frederick is that you?! What did they do to you! Speak to me!"

Sam dropped to his knees, clutching at his chest, and Clint stared down at him with the kind of expression Bruce had previously only seen on Natasha. He had a feeling that was probably where Clint had learned it from. 

"...Dude, are you seriously trying to tell me that your bird speech thing extends to turkeys?"

"HOW COULD YOU YOU MONSTER!"

"Dude, if you're trying to fuck with me it's not working, pull up a damn chair so us mere mortals have a chance to get some food before the three super metabolisms descend upon us."

"I wasn't sure if Tasha was coming." Sam shot back with a grin, and Clint kicked him gently, laughing with him as he helped him back up to his feet. 

"So how many pies are there out in that kitchen now?" Clint asked as he threw the oven mitts onto the couch and grabbed a chair, making himself comfortable, still in a lurid purple apron and chef hat. 

"I think they might actually have broken double figures? I mean... I know there are a lot of us but that still seems like an awful lot of pie."

"Thor will eat at least one, I will tell you that now, and Rogers and Barnes probably will too."

"Yeah but still..."

"So what have we got?"

"Well let's see... there were two of Bucky's apple pie because even though he's kinda Russian now apparently he makes a better one than Steve which makes me laugh on so many levels... there were two pumpkin and two sweet potato... then I think we had two chocolate cream, a lemon meringue and a banoffee."

"....And they're still going?!" Clint was incredulous. 

Sam shrugged. 

"I think I heard them planning a key lime and possibly a mississippi mud? But I wasn't going to stand around too long in case they decided to turn me into a pie."

Clint rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, nodding in commiseration with his avian buddy as he squeezed. 

"Yeah man, I get that... I'm glad you're still with us."

"I'm glad I'm still with you too. By the sound of it you're gonna need someone to help you eat the damn pie."

"Don't forget the turkey and the ham!"

"As if I could." Sam looked around at the table, eyes widening, "Holy shit man how much food did you make?!"

"Well there's the potatoes, the sweet potatoes, the mashed potatoes, the carrots, the sprouts with bacon and butter, the turkey, the ham, the gravy, the cornbread, the cranberry sauce, the bread sauce..."

"....And you're sure this is somehow gonna fit in the fridge when we're done?!"

Clint grinned. 

"Sam. My friend. My brother. I love you very much you know that because you and I we get things that others don't because we have a special bond going on here. But I think you are forgetting the magnitude of the task in front of us in terms of metabolisms we need to satisfy. Let's remind ourselves who we're feeding here, okay? We have Steve and Bucky. Two super soldiers with super metabolisms who are super fit and require high calorific loads. We have Thor, god of thunder, who eats about the same as they do. We have Natasha who I'm pretty sure can eat her own body weight in food when she wants to, and me, I hoard, and what I finds, I eats. If it's in front of me I will consume it. We have Tony Stark who forgets to eat so often that when he does it's like three meals at once, and we have Pepper Potts on one of the few days of the year she's actually allowed to be human and eat away from the cameras. We have Bruce, my other brother from yet another mother who has an alter ego who can eat as much as Steve and Bucky put together. We have you and Rhodey, and we have Phil. And this is for Thanksgiving dinner, a meal when it is literally compulsory to eat as much as you can because that is what Thanksgiving is for."

Sam stared at him for a long moment, opening and closing his mouth several times as if he had a point to make. He raised his finger each time then lowered it as he gave further thought to what Clint had said. 

Eventually he turned to the table and examined it with a critical eye, turning back to the sniper and asking in a faux-serious tone, "Do you think we have enough?"

Clint shoved him and he almost fell off the chair, balance not helped by laughter. 

"Okay okay the pies are here we'll put them over here by the couches oh wow that dinner looks fantastic we're almost ready to meet is everyone here?"

Tony tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Steve, processing in with Bucky and Phil in tow, each of them balancing several pies each, and then followed by Dummy with the remainder. 

"I'm sorry, did you actually breathe during that sentence? I feel like I have a right to know and to be slightly sceptical here Cap, because you have a tendency to side eye me when I talk, and I feel that's very unwarranted. I feel like that is hugely unfair. Because I do so take breaths when I talk and I don't have super soldier lungs so I can't go on for nearly as long as you do when you-"

Rhodey leaned in from behind and kissed Tony soundly to interrupt the flow. 

Tony smiled immediately, shifting closer into the kiss, his body language becoming a lot more receptive. 

"...Hey... when were you going to tell me you were here?! Honey bear I missed you!"

"When you let me get a word in edgeways." Rhodey replied with a lazy half smile and a dry tone, but he sank into the chair next to Tony and tugged him into another, softer kiss. 

Bruce smiled as he watched, glancing over his shoulder to smile at Pepper who was walking in with Natasha. 

"So you know how you were asking why we don't have some of our other superhero buddies over for Thanksgiving when we have that big Christmas party and none of us really know what families are?" Clint asked Sam with a grin, and gestured around the room and then at the table, "This. This is why."

"Yeah I'm starting to get that..." Sam laughed, then leaned up to reward Steve with a quick kiss when the man stopped by him looking like a puppy desperate for some attention. 

Bucky settled in next to Bruce and gave him a quick smile. 

"This year I'm giving thanks for the fact that I didn't kill Steve."

"Don't you give thanks for that every year?"

"It helps me make it a pattern."

Phil came hurrying in, dressed down rather than in his usual suit, and Clint jumped up to hand him the carving fork and knife. They'd all agreed it was only right that Phil did that job. After all, in this weird, incestuous, dysfunctional family, he was the closest they had to a dad. And besides Thor was weird around dead things and big knives...


End file.
